


Threats

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Choking, Death Threats, Established Relationship, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'What I want is to kill you, prissy priest, I don’t think you’d enjoy that very much.' Giriko discovers that Justin's kinks run a lot deeper than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threats

The priest is on his bed when Giriko comes into his room.

The chainsaw doesn’t think of his room as a haven or anything; he doesn’t think of anywhere as a haven, anymore. The delusion that safe spaces exist  _anywhere_  evaporated sometime during his first century of existence, and now he’s not used to considering such realism as anything other than a boon. So it’s not the invasion of his space that irritates him. Nor is it the implication that Justin’s been there for hours, judging from the way he looks up with his gaze bleary from almost-sleep and the pattern of Giriko’s sheets pressed into the skin of his cheek. It’s nothing as specific as the priest being here, in his room, waiting for him to arrive that irritates the chainsaw; it’s just general dislike that burns Giriko’s blood with rage.

He crosses the intervening space in two long strides and grabs the front of the blond’s robes before Justin’s even fully sitting up. “What the  _fuck_  are you doing?” he spits, dragging the priest bodily off the bed so he can throw him towards the wall. Justin catches his balance, unfortunately, so he goes stumbling back instead of slamming into the floor or the wall itself, and when he lifts his head to look at Giriko he’s smiling like the chainsaw’s greeted him with a kiss.

“Hey there, Giriko,” he says, pulling his rumbled clothes straight on his shoulders. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah, it’s a real fucking surprise seeing as this is  _my room_.” Giriko comes forward again, and when Justin doesn’t move back he just walks into him to shove him backward. “What are you  _doing_  here?”

Justin tips his chin just barely up, so he’s looking down his nose at Giriko even though they’re inch-for-inch in height. His smile hasn’t flickered once. “I wanted to see you.”

“Good.” Giriko growls. “Great. You fucking saw me. Get out.”

“Aww.” Justin brings his chin down, now, blinks up through feathery lashes. “Don’t I get anything else? I’ve been waiting for  _hours_.”

“Anything else like  _what_?” Giriko comes forward again, and when he pushes back this time Justin hits the wall as he steps backward. “You showed up to get fucked by your favorite dick, is that it?”

Justin blinks, and in the gesture his eyes flicker down to the front of Giriko’s pants. It’s so brief the chainsaw wouldn’t see it if he weren’t looking for it, but he is and he does. A moment later the priest’s expression is cool and collected again, eyes clear and blue and innocent.

“I don’t know  _what_  you must think of me.” He leans back against the wall. “Such vulgar ideas.” One hand comes up to rest against his neck. There’s nothing immediately suggestive about the movement itself, but it draws Giriko’s eyes to the line of the priest’s throat as Justin tips his head very slightly to the side, and the position of his arm twists his hip sideways so suddenly he is lounging against the wall instead of just resting on it. “I sincerely hope you will someday see the error of your ways.”

“Not fucking likely.” Giriko reaches out to fist his hand into the priest’s blond hair and pulls back. The pressure makes Justin flinch, his mask shattering into reflexive pain for a moment, and Giriko brings his other arm up and across Justin’s throat so he can lean his weight forward and pin the priest still.

“Fuck you,” he says, carefully clear even though he  _wants_  to spit unintelligible curses. “You don’t get to waltz in here looking for sex and then wait for  _me_  to initiate when  _you’re_  the one who wants it.”

Justin sighs dramatically in spite of the pressure on his throat. “We could always do what  _you_  want.”

“What  _I_  want?” Giriko laughs sharply and leans in close so Justin can feel him breathing. “What I want is to  _kill_  you, prissy priest, I don’t think you’d enjoy that very much.”

“Mm.” Justin blinks and his eyes focus on Giriko’s hyper-close mouth before he licks his lips. “But aren’t we talking about what  _you_  enjoy?”

Giriko has no idea how the priest manages to sound so damn in control when he’s pinned against the wall with an arm against his throat. The chainsaw growls and presses in hard until Justin whimpers in breathless pain and wiggles in a futile attempt at freedom.

“I could just crush your windpipe,” he says. His voice is echoingly calm, absorbing steady focus from Justin as the blond’s eyes start to go dark with panic. “You couldn’t stop me with your fucking weapon-form, not now that I’ve got you at close range like this.” He grins, bright and amused, as Justin’s hands come up to grab at his wrist and elbow and shove. Even with the wall to brace against and the priest’s admittedly impressive strength, given his smaller size, the chainsaw doesn’t even have to try to keep his footing. He watches Justin try for a minute, waits until the fingers against his arm are clinging in silent plea instead of desperate resistance.

“See what I mean?” he says conversationally. Justin is staring at his face and Giriko’s pretty sure he’s never seen the priest look legitimately scared before. “You could try to cut me, but it’s kind of a long shot when I’ve got my chains to protect me whenever I need them.” He pauses, then drops his arm with no warning at all. Justin half-falls forward, catching himself only by his hands still against the chainsaw’s arm, and takes an enormous gasping breath that turns into a choking cough as too much air hits his throat.

Giriko keeps grinning while the priest struggles to fill his lungs, viciously satisfied at this evidence of the blond’s broken facade. “So what was that about what  _I_  want?”

Justin’s head is down, breathing turning steady if not clear yet, and his fingers are still clinging hard to Giriko’s arm like it’s the only thing keeping him up. He takes a breath, and lifts his head, and Giriko chokes on his own amusement. Whatever fear was in his eyes a moment ago is entirely gone now, but the collected cool is absent as well; all that blue has turned hot and desperate, and before Giriko has a chance to do more than process the priest’s expression the blond is lunging at him, hands reaching for the back of his neck and his hair as Justin crushes his mouth against Giriko’s.

The priest’s approach is so unexpected that Giriko actually stumbles back a step before he catches himself. Justin’s got his arms around the chainsaw’s neck and moves with him, though, kissing him so hard that his teeth are catching on Giriko’s lips and Giriko’s mouth is opening instinctively before he means to do so. Then Justin’s tongue is in his mouth, and his own hands are grabbing handfuls of the priest’s robes, and just because this wasn’t what he  _expected_  doesn’t mean he can’t react correctly. He pulls Justin in against him and even through three layers of fabric he can feel the priest’s cock hard against him, and he laughs brittle with surprise into Justin’s mouth.

“The fuck,” he manages, pulling back an inch. Justin mewls and comes in against his neck instead, pressing a line of desperate kisses against Giriko’s jawline and throat. Giriko grabs at the priest’s shoulder to regain some measure of control but doesn’t actually push the blond entirely away. “You really  _are_  a kinky little fuck, aren’t you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Justin breathes, and he sounds all raw and needy like Giriko has never heard him before. The chainsaw growls and shoves back, hard enough that Justin’s grip comes loose and he falls back against the wall, but Giriko’s there before the priest has a chance to recover. Justin looks up at him, and this time the shadow in his eyes is all sincere, without the teasing bite of his earlier expression.

“I can’t believe you get off on this,” Giriko says, reaching out to brace a hand on the wall over Justin’s shoulder. “Seriously?” He grabs at the blond’s robes with his free hand and Justin reaches to help, tugging the cloth up over his head so Giriko can toss it aside. Without the disguising robes around him Justin looks even skinnier, narrow hips in tight-fitting pants and angular shoulders under a white t-shirt, and Giriko reaches out to dig his palm hard into the priest’s lower ribs. Justin exhales hard and goes languid-limp against the wall, and Giriko leans in close to growl into his ear.

“I could bring up chains on my hand right now,” he says, and he can hear Justin’s breath catch in the back of his throat. “The highest gear would go right through you before you’d have a chance to react.” He  _does_  think about it, tugs the spin of his weapon-form up just under his skin until Justin can feel the texture, a threat and a promise against his fragile ribcage. “A lower gear would take a little longer. You’d have time to realize what was happening, at least.”

Justin arches his back up off the wall, digs his skin hard against Giriko’s palm, and the almost-there chains catch and tear at his shirt before Giriko snatches his hand away.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he says again, but he’s reaching for the priest’s shirt again, with just ordinary human fingers this time. Justin wiggles obligingly when the chainsaw pulls the fabric up over his head, but Giriko catches it before Justin’s arms are entirely free, twists the thin cloth into a makeshift rope to catch the blond’s wrists so he can pin them up over Justin’s head with one hand. The priest doesn’t even struggle, just curves away from his wrists to grind his hips against Giriko’s thigh. The chainsaw grins and steps in close to crush Justin’s body between himself and the wall; the priest moans but goes perfectly silent as Giriko starts talking again.

“I could take a saw to your wrists,” he suggests, twisting the cloth tighter around his fingers so it cuts sharp against Justin’s narrow wrists. “With your hands up like this you’d be bleeding out over your own face.” He drags his free hand through Justin’s blond curls and the priest lets him pull his head along with the movement of his hair, eyes fixed on Giriko’s face and mouth open as if he can’t recall how to close it. “It’d be all in your hair and over your face.” He leans in closer. “You could taste it, even, if you’re into that.” He grins. “ _I_  could lick it off your face myself.” He trails his tongue against the priest’s cheekbone and Justin shudders and shuts his eyes. Giriko keeps going, leaving a path of moisture down along the priest’s ear until he gets to the flutter of heartbeat under his ear.

“Be kind of slow, though.” He considers. “Faster if I just tore your throat out with my  _teeth_.”

Justin sighs and tips his head to the side like he’s offering himself, and Giriko can’t entirely refuse the suggestion. He sets his teeth against the priest’s throat, trails his tongue against the speeding rhythm of the blond’s pulse, and bites down until his mouth fills with the metallic tang of blood and Justin moans low in his throat, where Giriko can feel the vibration against his lips.

He pulls back; the bite’s not deep, in actual fact, just the imprint of teeth done in red on Justin’s skin. He steps back and pulls Justin as he does so, twisting and tugging so when he lets go of the priest’s tangled shirt Justin stumbles and actually falls against the floor before fetching up against the side of the bed.

Giriko jerks his chin towards the mattress. “Get  _up_ ,” he orders, and Justin does, scrambling onto the bed even before he pauses to untangle his hands from his ruined shirt. Giriko’s there as soon as he pulls one wrist free, grabbing at the cloth and pulling it loose, and Justin drops back flat on the bed under the chainsaw like he’s never anything but perfectly obedient. The priest’s mouth is open more to gasp at air than to speak and his eyes are wide and dilated black until he looks like he’s barely aware of his surroundings at all. It’s all the prettier for how fucking  _chatty_  he usually is, the give in his body when Giriko shoves him back into the mattress the more satisfying for the lack of the resistance the chainsaw usually encounters. When he reaches down to pull the button on the priest’s pants free Justin doesn’t even buck up into the contact, just shuts his eyes and groans back in his throat like Giriko is pulling the sound involuntarily from his body.

“I can’t believe you,” Giriko half-laughs as he gets the priest’s fly down and digs his palm viciously against Justin’s hard cock. The blond gasps for air but doesn’t open his eyes. “Do you have a death wish or some shit like that? Or is it some sort of fucking brinksmanship?”

Justin brings one shaking hand up to cover his eyes, but Giriko can still see his parted lips damp with desperate moisture. He shrugs with one shoulder, takes a breath, and manages, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t  _know_?” Giriko leans back just long enough to drag Justin’s remaining clothes free and toss them aside before leaning back in while he fumbles through the paraphernalia jumbled together on the stand next to the bed. “How can you not  _know_?” His fingers settle on the bottle of lube and he sits back up, grabs at Justin’s hip to shove the priest up at a better angle for his purposes. Justin lifts himself obligingly and Giriko drips lube across the priest and his hand both in one messy movement.

“Or do you just  _like_  it?” He shoves a finger inside the priest and  _that_  gets a reaction beyond passive capitulation. Justin moans again and arches his back so hard that it  _can’t_  be comfortable; the hand across his face reaches for Giriko’s wrist and closes tighter than Giriko thought Justin could hold. He grins even though Justin’s not looking at him and starts pumping his hand inside the blond, speaking louder so Justin can hear him over his own gasping breathing. “You just know it gets you hard, me telling you what awful things I’d do to you?” He adds another finger; there’s almost not a response from Justin beyond a momentary hitch in his breathing and a slight increase in volume. “It gets me hard too,” he offers, digging his hips against Justin’s leg to demonstrate. “Lucky you.” He reaches for his fly with his free hand, shaking off Justin’s hold in spite of the intensity of the priest’s grip. Justin’s eyes come open and he looks down to watch the movement of Giriko’s hand as he gets his pants open and slides his dick free; there’s a flicker of eyelashes as the chainsaw closes his left hand over himself and strokes once, more for the slow burn of contact than with the determination of actually getting off.

Giriko leans in closer to Justin so he can let his voice go low and purring against the blond’s shoulder. “Do you fantasize about it?” He can feel Justin shaking under his mouth, can hear the little hiccup of air that’s as good as affirmation to his question. “Lying in your bed alone at night with your fingers around your cock thinking about my hands around your throat or my chains tearing through your skin?” Justin  _groans_  like he’s being punched, writhes under Giriko so his shoulder actually hits the chainsaw’s mouth before Giriko has a chance to pull back. He does, still grinning, and pulls his fingers free from the priest so he can slick lubrication up over his own cock. “You  _do_  don’t you.” A few strokes does the job so he can let himself go and shift his grip to Justin’s hips. Giriko comes forward  so his weight is on his knees instead of his feet; he looks down as he slides into Justin, but he keeps talking as he comes forward. “Do you think about the way your blood would look on my hands?” Justin is  _wiggling_ , writhing and arching as Giriko comes forward, and the chainsaw would tell him to stop except that it feels  _amazing_ , friction and heat and tightness all coming together until he has to stop talking to focus on breathing. Then he’s in, buried in Justin and feeling every motion the priest makes, and Giriko goes still over the blond for a moment.

He reaches out to press his palm flat on Justin’s chest, pushing down until the priest is struggling to take a full breath under the chainsaw’s weight. His fingers splayed out look enormous, or maybe it is Justin that looks frail, like Giriko could shatter him on accident.

“My chains would go right through your ribs,” he says, calmly in spite of the current situation, and Justin’s cock twitches against his stomach. Giriko grins, rests his weight on the palm against Justin’s chest, and reaches down to wrap his fingers around the blond’s cock while the priest pants shallowly in a desperate attempt at air. “If I was fast enough...” He slides his hand over Justin and the blond shuts his eyes and groans before rocking up instinctively into his touch. “I could  _watch_  your heart stop beating.” Justin is breathing so fast and so shallow he’s starting to hyperventilate. Giriko shifts his hand to the mattress and Justin gasps deep. The chainsaw angles his body to slide back so he can thrust back into the priest. Justin’s hands are skimming over himself, one tangled into a fist in his hair and the other trailing sensation down over waist and hip and stomach so his fingers bump against Giriko’s hand working his cock.

Giriko leans in and licks the drying blood from Justin’s neck. “You could watch me watch you die,” he purrs, and Justin wails a moan like Giriko’s murmuring the most affectionate endearments. “I’d be the last thing you’d ever see.” He speeds the movement of his hand, jerks harder until Justin gasps and arches against him and he can drop over the priest and curl his fingers around the back of Justin’s neck to hold him steady. It’s easier to thrust up into him with the priest still, and Justin tips his head back like Giriko’s fingers are the only thing holding him up. The limp line of his throat draws Giriko’s mouth; he bites hard to draw fresh blood and can feel Justin’s responsive moan against his mouth more than he can hear it.

The priest’s hands shift from his body to Giriko’s as he gets close; Giriko can feel the tension winding tight under his skin before fingers wind into his hair and dig hard into his hip. The movement gives him enough warning that he can bring his teeth back to scrape sharp-edged over Justin’s throat, and the priest gasps wordlessly and comes hard over Giriko’s fingers and under his body. The convulsive movement is almost enough in itself, and when Giriko can let his hold on Justin’s cock go to brace himself with both hands it only takes a few more moments of Justin gasping in his ear and fingers gripping bruises into his skin before he groans against Justin’s throat as pleasure crashes over him. His hands grab tighter without his intention, so when his awareness has come back in from the blank satisfaction of orgasm and he loosens his hold he has left indentations in Justin’s skin that take a minute to clear, promising marks for at least a day or two as evidence.

Giriko rolls sideways so he’s more on the mattress than he is on Justin, but the priest turns to follow him so he stays pressed up against the chainsaw’s shirt and his fingers stay oddly gentle against the back of Giriko’s neck. With the languid relaxation of orgasm draining his usually angry tension, Giriko can look at Justin and can smile without any vicious edge to it at all.

“You’re crazy,” he offers, and it’s a comment and not an insult.

Justin makes a sound that is part a laugh and part a purr and part agreement and tucks his head against Giriko’s shirt. Giriko tangles his fingers into the priest’s blond hair and lets his unusual calm drift into pleasure in his head.


End file.
